Stone shook his head. “No. The fire was probably set by an accomplice of the killer. They must’ve known that there was surveillance going on inside that house. The fire was a distraction, giving them an opportunity to get in the house, kill Behan and escape.”
“Pretty clever,” Caleb commented.
Stone said, “I’m going downtown to see Reuben.”
“Won’t they ask for ID or something, Oliver?” Milton pointed out.
“They can ask, but the last time I checked, not having any wasn’t a crime.”
“I bet Susan can get you an ID,” Milton suggested. “She had FBI credentials that looked like the real thing.”
Caleb said, “Where is our intrepid colleague?”
“She had other plans,” Stone answered.
Jerry Bagger sat in his office with a look of defeat rare in the man. Photos of Annabelle and Leo had been discreetly circulated to every corner of the con world, and no one had come forward to offer an ID. It wasn’t surprising considering there was not one single clear shot of her or her grunt. It was like they knew exactly where the surveillance cameras were posted. And though his people had done their best to forestall it, news of the con against Bagger had leaked out in bits and pieces, which was probably worse than the truth all being revealed, since it allowed ample room for speculation. In sum, the casino king was a laughingstock. That only fueled his desire to find the pair and run them through a buzz saw while he videotaped their last horrendous moments on earth.
Their rooms had been gone over, and not a single print had been found. Any drinking glasses that the woman and her sidekick touched had long since been cleaned. The cell phone she’d thrown against the wall had gone in the Dumpster and was now resting in the landfill of whatever state Jersey shipped its garbage to. The four-day window had dried up their trail. Bagger put his head in his hands. And he’d been the one to suggest the extended time frame. He had, in effect, conned himself.
He rose and went over to the wall of windows. He’d prided himself on being able to sniff out scams long before they had a chance to do him any harm. However, the fact was this was the first con perpetrated on him directly; all others had been focused on his casino. Those were short cons, aimed at relieving money from his craps, blackjack and roulette tables. This had been a long con orchestrated by a woman who knew exactly what she was doing, and used every asset she had, including that old reliable, sex.
Yet she had been so damn convincing. He went through her spiel over and over in his mind. She had turned the tap on and off at just the right interval. She had him convinced that she was a spy working for the government. And these days, with all the crap the feds were involved in, it was hard not to believe even the most outrageous stories.
He gazed out the window, and his mind went back to that telephone call, the one where she wanted to meet after ferreting out his security detail following her. He’d lied that he was already gone from the office, heading out of town. She’d told him point-blank that he was still in his office. That one comment had made him believe that she was legit, that the spooks were really watching him.
He stared across the street at the hotel. It reached twenty-three stories off the Boardwalk, identical to his building. The line of windows there looked right into his office.
After a bit of hassle and tough questioning and finally a call to Reuben’s lawyer, Oliver Stone was allowed in to see his friend in his cell. When the door clanged shut behind him, Stone jumped slightly. He had been imprisoned before, though not in an American facility. No, that wasn’t right, he corrected himself. His recent torture had certainly been by fellow Americans on U.S. soil.
Assuming that the room was being monitored, Stone and Reuben talked in low voices using few words. And Stone started tapping his feet on the concrete floor.
Reuben caught on to what he was doing. “Think the sound will mess up their electronic eavesdropping?” he whispered, his look skeptical.
“Not really, but it’ll make me feel better.”
Reuben smiled and started tap-dancing too. “The fire?” he muttered.
“Yes, I know,” Stone said. “You okay?”
“Just a knock in the head. My lawyer’s going to use that as a defense.”
“Prints on the gun?”
“Accidental touch.”
“Caleb explained things to the police. You were there guarding the books.” Reuben nodded. “Anything else?”
The other man shook his head. “Other than the peep show. Never saw it coming.”
“Following through, just so you know.”
“Connected?”
Stone gave a barely perceptible nod. “Need anything?”
“Yeah, Johnnie Cochran. Too bad he’s in the big courtroom in the sky.” He paused. “Susan?”
Stone hesitated. “Busy.”
As Stone left the building later, he noted that two men—
obviously police—were following at a discreet distance.
